


Cultivation

by MadameMontgomery



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Hannibal, Asexuality, Domestic, Dubcon Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMontgomery/pseuds/MadameMontgomery
Summary: What did Hannibal want? He didn’t have a fucking clue. Bedelia had implied. Hannibal had implied in his way of doing so just enough to run everyone around in circles for hours. Hell, Will had even implied up there on the cliff, covered in blood and finally alive. But it was all implications. Assumptions.

---
In order to not deal with his feelings about Hannibal after the fall, Will starts a garden. It works about as well as expected.





	Cultivation

**Author's Note:**

> Between writer's block and illness and elusive endings, this fic was dragged kicking and screaming to the finish line. But it's my longest work thus far, and I'm really rather proud of myself for that. Also the irony isn't lost on me that my first fic to break the teen rating happens to feature ace!Hannibal. The dubcon warning is for a scene where Hannibal and Will are making out, and Will goes a bit too far unknowingly. Everything else in the fic is 100% consensual! Onward and upwards to the next fic!! 
> 
> This fic was written (and very late) for the [Hannigram Acethetic](http://hannigramacethetic.tumblr.com/) event _Love is Love_. Check them out!
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

When Will walked into the study that afternoon, he could tell Hannibal was surprised by the slight twitch of his eyebrow. He was staring at the basket of seed packets in Will’s hands with the look of someone resigned to their fate. He didn’t even look that defeated while locked in his glass cage, the smug bastard.

“Are you doing anything this afternoon?” Will asked, looking pointedly at the book in Hannibal’s hands.

“I suppose not.” The words sounded like they were dragged out of him. 

“Good. We’re starting a garden.”

===

Will had always been a tactile person. Whether it be repairing boat motors, or making lures, or even rolling around with his dogs, he enjoyed working with his hands. Too long without a project made him restless, fingers constantly drumming on surfaces (much to Hannibal’s fond exasperation). These past few weeks, all of his time and effort had been devoted to rest. Healing, after all, was necessary after their tumble into the roiling Atlantic. Between that and Hannibal’s overbearing mother-hen routine, Will was buzzing out of his skull. 

Once he had healed enough, he knew he had to get out of the house, at least for a little while. Their last few meals had been canned beans and peaches, so naturally he planned a trip to their local grocery store. Hannibal, naturally, was against him leaving. 

“Your right arm is still stiff, Will. What happens if you get into trouble? Get recognized? I won’t be there to help you.” Hannibal tried to sit up on the couch but soon stopped. The gunshot wound had been clean before the ocean, but ripping a guy’s throat out then falling off a cliff didn’t do him any wonders. The blood still drained from his face when he moved too much. 

“I’m not sure what I’m more offended by. The fact that you think I can’t defend myself, or that you think I’m stupid enough to get caught,” Will deadpanned. 

“Will, that’s not what I meant—”

He sighed. “Hannibal, it's one simple grocery run. We need to eat something other than canned food. I know you hate it.” They both knew it was true, and Will was getting desperate. “Please?”

The defeat written in Hannibal’s shoulders couldn’t have been written clearer. 

In Will’s more honest moments with himself (most of which involved a high level of intoxication), he could admit that restlessness wasn’t the only reason he needed out of the house. Like usual, he and Hannibal were dancing around the issue of themselves, what they were supposed to be now that they had died and were reborn into this new life. If that’s what this was. Life wasn’t avoiding eyes and stilted conversation. This was just stifling. The whole thing constantly had him reaching for the nearest bottle of alcohol. 

What did Hannibal want? He didn’t have a fucking clue. Bedelia had implied. Hannibal had implied in his way of doing so just enough to run everyone around in circles for hours. Hell, Will had even implied up there on the cliff, covered in blood and finally alive. But it was all implications. Assumptions.

_And you know what they say about assuming_ , he had thought bitterly, slamming the car door a little harder than intended. A grocery run was just that he needed. Something simple and not all-consuming. 

And it was a simple grocery run. He was there and back without a single hitch, riding the high of doing something after so long. But he knew it was a just quick fix, that trips to the store weren’t enough to satisfy that need to be productive. Or to make that connection with Hannibal.

That’s when the rack of seed packets had caught his eye.

=== 

“Where exactly are you planning to put this garden?” Hannibal’s skepticism was palatable. Will knew he was eyeing their overgrown backyard with distaste, eyebrows arched, lips pursed. Funnily enough, it was almost the same way he used to look at Mason Verger. 

“ _We_ are going to pick a spot later. But first, obviously our yard needs some maintenance. How comfortable are you pushing a wheelbarrow?”

“Not very.” 

“Good,” Will cracked a smile and watch Hannibal spill over with more of that exasperated fondness. It made him was to touch and tear. He flexed his fingers, turning away when Hannibal’s eyes shot down to watch the movement. “C’mon, we don’t have a lawnmower, so we’re doing this the hard way. If I’m satisfied with how much we get done, maybe I’ll even let you cook me some elaborate dinner tonight.”

To Will’s surprise and delight, they ended up clearing the majority of the yard with a giant pair of clippers he had found hidden underneath some old cardboard boxes in their shed. Hannibal had been staring at them with some interest before Will gave him a look.

_Gardening only. At least, for now._

Hannibal, despite his penchant for dramatics, followed his lead well. He trailed after Will with the wheelbarrow, dumping it out the best he could near the shed when it got too full. Both were hot and sweaty, unused to the new exertion, when Will finally called it a day.

True to his word, he let Hannibal make them dinner.

“We have the barest minimum of ingredients, and yet this tastes amazing as usual.” Will shook his head, “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“You’re surprised?” Hannibal’s tone was all teasing, eyes bright. Will couldn’t tell if it was the cooking or the lack of canned food at their table.

“Pleasantly so.”

Hannibal hummed. Will took a bite of his steak. Rare. Bloody. Watching Hannibal, he licked his lips. Hannibal only looked back, amusement tugging his smile higher. Face heating, Will looked back down at his plate. 

_Smug bastard_ , he thought. In his mind, it sounded like a sigh. 

“Did you ever have a garden back in Wolf Trap? Or when you lived in Maine?” Hannibal still hadn’t referred to Molly by her name. It bothered Will a lot less than he thought. Molly was a bruise, and bruises hurt when pressed. Thankfully, they also healed with time.

_Time and lots of alcohol. And now apparently a garden._

“No, I never had the chance. The dogs would have trampled the whole thing anyway. Any vegetables or herbs that I used, I either found by accident or bought from the store,” Will said.

“So why now?” Hannibal asked, no judgment in his tone. Not that there ever was to begin with really. Will knew he could tell Hannibal his reasons, his stupid attempt at metaphors and playing house, and Hannibal would be as open as ever. But it was only the first day, and things were still too new and too fresh to test. Will gave the only answer he could give at the moment, which, on par with every else he and Hannibal said to each other, wasn’t an answer at all.

“Ask me again later,” he said quietly.

Hannibal gave him a nod and a reassuring smile, and Will was helpless not to smile back.

===

Will was thankful to find that time passed quickly while working on the garden. It kept his hands busy, his mind occupied, and his day filled enough that Hannibal couldn’t spring up any conversations he wasn’t ready for.

_Almost_ filled enough.

“Perhaps today will be the day you tell me why we are starting a garden?” Hannibal was standing above him, holding a packet of carrot seeds. Will, of course, was down in the dirt, hand-planting the little seeds Hannibal fished out for him. 

“Not a chance.”

“Avoiding the subject suggests that this holds some significance for you.” 

“The significance is that you’ll stop wasting time frowning at every vegetable in the store because they don’t live up to your expectations.”

“Will.” The hurt in his tone had Will squinting up at him, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. It was noon and unusually hot for early summer. Hannibal, on the other hand, was immaculate as ever and very pointedly not looking back. Will sighed.

“I just want to grow a garden. There’s not some deeper meaning to all this. Just—I want to grow this garden and I want you to help me.” Hannibal was still looking away. “I want us to grow this together.”

Hannibal met his eyes, their usual backlight sparked to a flame. It was intense. Too intense. 

“And I was kidding about the shopping. The pickiness is…nice.” Between the sun and Hannibal and his own embarrassment, he was sure he had caught on fire.

_Too goddamn hot._

Still staring at him, Hannibal bent down and kissed his forehead softly. Will was distantly aware his mouth was open. Hannibal pulled back, and they stared at each other for a moment more. 

“You look hot, Will,” Hannibal murmured, “I squeezed some fresh lemonade this morning. Would you like me to pour you a glass?”

“Yeah,” Will croaked at his retreating back. He was already walking away. Smug bastard.

The lemonade was good and cold. Hannibal was fire molded into a man. Will sipped his drink and longed for something stronger, staring desperately out at the garden. 

Neither of them talked about the kiss.

===

Time may heal all wounds, but it sure as hell didn’t clear up anything between them. To Will’s annoyance and complete lack of surprise, Hannibal was riding the line between courteousness and curiosity. It had been months since the first question about the garden, and since Will refused to give him an actual answer, he had only continued to push the subject. 

_New bruises to poke at, I suppose_ , he had thought wearily, a couple glasses into a new bottle of whiskey.

And push the subject he did.

“The carrots have sprouted, and the squash seems to be coming up nicely over there,” Will had pointed at the leafy vines that were starting to spread hectically. It had been a few weeks since they planted the first seeds.

Hannibal had smiled, which should have been the first red flag.

“A strong beginning for what should be a beautiful garden.” Will felt Hannibal’s gaze turn to him. “Beginnings are important, Will.”

“That they are.”

“What happens before these beginnings is important, too. The past defines us. Even the bible starts with Genesis, the story before the start of everything.”

Will side-eyed him. “Are you seriously comparing this garden to God’s greatest creation?”

“I am merely curious about the story before its start.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Will muttered to himself. Louder, he said, “There is no story. I wanted something to do. You of all people know how boredom digs in until you’re tearing at the seams. Growing something is useful. Easy.”

“Busy.” Hannibal tilted his head.

“Yes, exactly. And now if you’re done with the interrogation, I want to check if the tomatoes are fine. Deer have a tendency to…munch.”

That put an end to that conversation. For a while.

Hannibal wanted to know what he was hiding and he was nothing if not driven. He began working the garden into every conversation that he could. Eyes warm, mouth quirked, he had the look of a man who had already won. It made Will see red, though whether it was from anger or lust, he didn’t want to admit to himself.

Will, of course, was treating this like he would any unwanted attention: by hiding, drinking, and denying. It was a dance, but one that had one partner dragging the other. Will spent his days half working in the garden, ignoring Hannibal standing next to him, and the other half in his room, curled around a bottle, repressing. 

Like all dances, theirs came to a head.

It was a few months later and late enough into summer that they were able to pluck the first few ripe tomatoes from the vine. They worked quickly and efficiently, Hannibal chatting on about some recipe he was going to try with the tomatoes. Will nodded intermittently, lost in thought about the way Hannibal’s fingers looked wrapped around the fruit. He didn’t even notice Hannibal was waiting for him to answer until he cleared his throat.

Will blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Thankfully, Hannibal only looked amused. “As I was saying, harvesting is an important time for a gardener. It is when what they have given starts giving back.”

“Enjoying the fruits of my labor?”

“Among other things. It’s a success. You have created life, life that will sustain your own. That’s no small thing, Will.”

“It’s a tomato, Hannibal.”

“Indeed it is,” he smiled. 

Will raised his eyebrow.

“And maybe it is more than that. Is your life lacking in sustenance? Is this another piece to replace an empty—”

“Jesus fucking _Christ_.” Will was up and walking to the house before Hannibal could spout anymore bullshit. He just kept pushing and pushing and not giving anything in return. Will didn’t have anything left to give. Not anymore.

“Will!” Hannibal actually sounded worried. Will would have laughed if he didn’t want to punch him so bad. He was white-knuckling their sink, staring out at the garden, _their goddamn garden_ , that started this whole mess. Hannibal had followed him in. He didn’t have to see him to know he was approaching him slowly, one hand outstretched. 

_Still trying to reach me after all this time._ The thought made him choke.

“If you touch me,” he said evenly, “I’ll break your fucking hand.”

“As dazzling the sight of you in action is, I think you and I are both past that.”

“Are we?” Will whispered. Behind him, Hannibal stopped. 

“ _Are we?_ ” he shouted. His voice was going all pitchy like it hadn’t in years.

_Hysterical._

“Because I don’t know that! Hell, I don’t know anything about us! A kiss is just a kiss, Hannibal! It can mean anything if you don’t talk about it! You never—I thought it would be different. I thought that after _killing_ someone together things would change. But even now, all we do run circles around each other." Will turned, glaring, nails biting into his hand. “Why won’t you stop pushing me about the garden?”

They stared at each other. Will has half-panting, and Hannibal was frozen. He licked his lips before—

“Will.” His name sounded like it had been ripped apart, doused in whiskey, and lit aflame. Will couldn’t take it anymore.

In two steps, he was shoving Hannibal against their island and licking into his mouth. They were teeth and tongue and the heated scratch of stubble burn. Someone had bit the other at some point, and there was blood on their lips. Hannibal’s hands were in his hair, pulling his curls taut, and Will’s lungs were burning. Everything was iron and fire, and he could feel himself tearing at the seams. It was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

He ran his hands down Hannibal’s body, fingers delighting in the feeling of _Hannibal Hannibal Hannibal_ finally beneath him, and Hannibal jerked his head back. 

“Will…” Will couldn’t give less of a fuck about what he was saying. Hannibal’s neck was exposed now, and he was doing the best he could to suck bruises into his skin. He’d reached Hannibal’s belt and began tugging, trying to work it loose without looking. Hannibal pulled his hair again. Hard.

“Will—” Will hissed his displeasure, running his teeth against his throat in warning. He was drunk on this, on Hannibal, and the belt was too damn complicated for him to figure out. He slid his hand down further, moaning at the feel of Hannibal’s erection hot and hard against his palm.

“ _Will._ ” And then he was being shoved away.

He landed hard against the sink and could only watch as Hannibal walked out of the room without another word. Will opened his mouth to call him back, to say anything at all, but the words died in his throat when the front door slammed shut. The sound of tires on gravel faded away to silence. For the second time in his life, Will was in freefall. 

===

It was dark by the time Hannibal came back. Will could hear him walking through the grass behind him. He was sitting out in the garden, a half-drained bottle of scotch dangling from his hand. He probably smelled like tomato plants, but at this point, he didn’t even care. He just felt empty.

Hannibal didn’t stop, instead moving to sit down next to him among the plants. They sat for a while in silence, staring out into the darkness beyond their property. Hannibal held his hand out for the bottle. Will gave it to him, glancing over to watch him take a drink. The bruises Will had left on his throat were livid. He looked away. 

“Perhaps,” Hannibal’s voice was rough, “we are both at fault for not wanting to talk about this.”

“If you’re suggesting that I—”

“Please, Will, let me finish.”

Will ground his teeth together but shut up anyway.

“Maybe fault isn’t the right word for this. Fear is something I don’t experience often, Will, and you scare me more than anything. This scares me. It’s delicate, not unlike the gossamer wings on an imago.”

“More shattered teacups, Doctor?”

Hannibal smiled thinly. “It’s a bigger mess if the teacup is holding something.”

“Am I holding you?”

“Entirely.” Will turned to stare at him. “You hold my heart entirely. It had been yours long before the dragon. My life is yours.”

The ground shifted. Will could hear the wind whistling in his ears, taste the Atlantic on his tongue. “But you left. In there, after I—after we—”

“Kissed?”

He was glad Hannibal couldn’t see the way his face burned at the memory. “And a bit more, yeah.”

“And therein lies the problem. ‘A bit more.’ Tell me, Will, have you ever heard the term asexual?” His tone was slipping into something more clinical. It was almost like being back in Baltimore. Will swallowed. 

“People that don’t like sex. Or don’t want it, aren’t interested.”

“To put it simply, yes. _I_ am asexual, Will. I can never have that ‘bit more’ with you.”

“Do you think that matters to me?” Will asked, confused.

“From the way you reacted in the kitchen,” Hannibal’s words were sharp enough to cut, “I’d say it doesn’t not matter to you.”

“Hannibal. Stop.” 

There was an audible click as his jaw shut, and Will waited until he met his eyes to continue.

“ _That_ doesn’t matter to me. You are enough. You’ve always been enough. Even now, sitting in our garden after some pointless fight, I’m still the happiest I’ve ever been. You make me happy, Hannibal. You complete me. Sex is nothing compared to that.”

“Then the kitchen?”

“The blundering acts of a man tired of running around in circles.” Will shot him a worn smile that spread into something warmer when Hannibal tentatively smiled back. “I still don’t know boundaries, and this will require actual conversations between us, but I’m willing to try. I want to try.”

Hannibal searched his eyes, and Will let himself be seen. He reached over, tugging the bottle from Hannibal’s grasp, and weaved their fingers together. Hannibal squeezed tight, stuttering out a breath.

“I will try my best,” he whispered. 

“That’s all I can ask for.”

They sat in comfortable silence, simply taking each other in. The night slid by them. Will watched the stars above them, smelled the crisp scent of their efforts around them, felt the warmth of Hannibal’s hand in his. 

_I am alive. We are alive._

“Can I ask a question?”

“Only if I may ask one in return,” Hannibal replied, amused.

“What about Alana? And tonight in the kitchen? If it doesn’t appeal to you,” The words felt awkward in his mouth, but Will knew he would understand what he was asking. He only hoped he didn’t take offense. Thankfully, Hannibal only squeezed his hand again.

“The body can want what I necessarily do not. A chemical reaction I cannot control. Alana was purely a demand that needed to be met. The drive to live has been proved to be a strong one, even in this.” Hannibal pressed a kiss to his hand, a smile against his skin. “Is your curiosity sated, Will?”

“Well enough. You may ask your question.” An answering smile tugged on his own mouth.

“Why did you plant a garden?”

“Of course you asked that,” Will huffed a laughed. “The truth?”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps you weren’t the only one feeling insecure about this. I wanted us to grow into something. Cultivate…life. And if not us, then the least I could do was this.”

Hannibal’s eyes were liquid. “And the not truth?”

“I’m a tactile man. My hands need to stay busy.”

Hannibal ducked his head with a laugh. Will could only stare at him.

_He’s beautiful._

“We still need to talk about this, all this, but right now I’m going to kiss you.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Stop me…?”

Hannibal’s smile against his mouth was answer enough.

===

Will peered up at the shadow handing him the cup of lemonade.

“Tired already?” Hannibal beamed at him. He was wearing a white cotton button-down, bangs falling into his eyes. He looked ridiculously soft. Will could only stand up and kiss him.

“Says the man who ran inside when it got ‘too hot’ around noon,” Will teased, “but no, I’m done for the day. Got all the weeds and old plants rooted out. We can start planting on Monday.”

“I’m sure it will be as successful as our last garden, though I am surprised you are continuing. I would have thought all your needs to cultivate life would have been fulfilled.”

Will shot him a look, fighting down a smile. “Oh?”

“This need to busy your hands may be obsessive, Will. Perhaps you need to talk to a doctor.”

Laughing, Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand and tugged him closer. He pressed a kiss to the corner of his proud smirk.

“Smug bastard. Good thing I love you.”

Hannibal tilted his chin, melting the brief peck into something softer and warmer. He tasted like sugared lemons, fresh and sweet and sharp on the tongue. Will rested their foreheads together, sighing when Hannibal nosed at his ear.

“I love you, Will. Impossibly so.”

Will closed his eyes and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Kudos and comments are a writer's lifeblood!
> 
> Come say hi!
> 
> [stormygalahad.tumblr.com](http://stormygalahad.tumblr.com/)


End file.
